You, Always
by words-with-dragons
Summary: Jack lives AU. After docking in New York, Rose and Jack are stranded with little to no money. Struggling with poverty, change and the emotional aftermath of surviving Titanic, can their love survive? [Jack/Rose] Historical license has been taken.
1. An Absolution

**A/N:** This is only chapter one, and I do have two more chapters already written. And if I can find the time, inspiration, and hopefully some feedback, I'll do my best to continue the fic. :) I hope you enjoy.

* * *

YOU, ALWAYS

CHAPTER ONE: An Absolution

* * *

 _April 15, 1912_

* * *

The bright light cut sharply through the darkness, and Rose's heart leapt into her throat. She rolled over onto her stomach slightly, squeezing Jack's hand. His fingers were numb and cold. "Jack," she squeezed his hand again. "Jack." Terror gripped her heart. He had to wake up. He couldn't be dead, not now, not after everything they had been through. Not now that help was so close, that this icy hell would end. He couldn't die.

Jack's beautiful eyes fluttered open, a weak smile making his lips curve upwards slightly. "Hey…" he croaked.

Rose smiled despite the situation, as relief crashed over her much warmer than the Atlantic waves had, and tightened her grip on his hand. "There's a boat Jack," she murmured. The light of one of the men's flashlights was starting to pass. "Come back!" she called, her voice hoarse.

"Come back!" Jack joined in, but it was no good. Their voices were too weak to be heard across the icy water.

Rose looked around at the dark water and all the frozen bodies, feeling sick to her stomach. _You're gonna die an old, old lady… Not here, not like this, not this night, do you understand me?_ She refused to die here; to let either of them die here.

As the boat passed, she caught a glimpse of glistening metal: the whistle, frozen to a man's lips only a few arm-strokes away.

"Jack, I need you to swim Jack," she whispered to him, and with difficulty, removed his freezing hand from her own. She tipped herself into the water, the iciness seeping into her bones, into her very soul, freezing her from the inside out. If she had thought she had been cold before, it was nothing compared to this.

Jack realized what she was doing and moved after her. His movements were sluggish and heavy – unlike Rose, he didn't have a life-vest – but the feel of her shaking, cold hand in his was his strength as they padded towards the dead man with the whistle.

Rose reached him first and pulled the whistle from his lips and blew hard. The metal was cold and bitter against her tongue, tainted with human flesh, but the sound was shrill and loud. With Jack's hand still in her own, Rose blew furiously.

"Come about!" the man on the boat hollered, and the light found their faces, and Rose knew they were saved. It was that realization that made her adrenaline fade, and her strength collapsed in on itself. Only the floating piece of wood kept her from her body from giving out on her, and Jack's misty breath in her ear, and her freezing fingers tightly clutching his. His hand felt like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth, her body so exhausted and drained, both emotionally and physically.

Strong, warm hands lifted her out of the water, and Rose felt her hand slide out of Jack's. Her body went limp like a ragdoll as the men helped her onto a bench. Blankets were draped over her shoulders, but the cold didn't fade away at all until Jack was brought into the boat beside her. His hair was thick with icicles, freezing to the touch, but Rose still brushed it back and kissed his forehead gently.

"I thought I lost you, for a second," she said, her voice thick with tears. Jack, though visibly exhausted, opened his arms and allowed Rose to curl up in them before he took blankets from the men.

"I told you I was a survivor," he said tenderly, kissing the top of her soaking hair and tucking a few curly wet strands behind her ear. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and she rested his head on his chest. Faintly, she could hear his steady heartbeat, and for the first time since the ship had hit the iceberg, she felt like she could breathe.

"I love you Jack," she whispered again. Before it had been a goodbye – she could still remember the determination that had settled over Jack's features, the promise they had made. _I'll never let go._ She had every intention of keeping it, forever.

Jack's teeth chattered, but he still smiled for her. "I love you Rose."

The boat joined the other survivors after almost an hour, as the sun started to burn away the night. Warmth washed over her as the sun hit her face, with Jack's arms wrapped around her, Rose felt her body begin to thaw. The screams of the drowning people, and the deadly silence that had followed were still trapped in her mind – Rose suspected it would always be there. But, at the very least, she had Jack.

She snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his neck. Her flyaway hair tickled his nose, not that Jack minded. The quivering of her body was another beautiful reminder that they were both safe and alive.

"Hey," Jack shifted slightly, craning his neck to get a better look over her head. "I can see the Carparthia."

Rose turned over, and sure enough, she could see the gray hull of the ship on the horizon. The sky was slowly turning blue, hardly a cloud in the sky. It hardly seemed like only four days had passed since she had boarded another ship, the Titanic, since she had met Jack. It felt like a lifetime ago, and a life she was glad to leave behind.

She tightened her grip on Jack's hand, quickly finding him again as she was helped onto the Carparthia. The wooden deck seemed uneven under her feet, her legs wobbling, while she waited for Jack to board the boat too.

The survivors in the lifeboats – Rose did a quick sum in her head – maybe 1000 or so, probably less, had already settled onto the deck. Quite a few women were in the Steerage deck, mostly anxious mothers with tired children. There were a few men, but Rose didn't spy any of Jack's friends, Fabrizio or Tommy Ryan among them. She swallowed hard. Only when the survivor's lists came out would they be able to know for sure, but the hallow feeling in her was sure they hadn't survived.

Rose and Jack holed up one on of the benches, letting the sun warm their faces. New clothes would be brought out as soon as possible, but for now, allowing them to dry naturally was their only option.

"You know," Rose said slowly. She was still trying to reclaim the proper use of her voice. "It's been years since I've worn a dress without a corset."

Jack leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss. "Made it much easier to take off," he murmured in her ear. Rose flushed, slapping his arm lightly. She laughed, and it felt like such a beautiful, foreign thing to do when only hours ago she would have been willing to die in the freezing cold water, unable to hold onto hope, only a promise to the man she loved and thought she had lost.

But they were here now. They had a future she had started to think was impossible.

"You're still shivering," she noted, her smile fading and her eyes growing soft with concern. "You were in the water for so long Jack." Her voice shook.

Jack placed his forehead against hers, cupping her face with his hands. "Hey, I'm here now, right?" he said gently, giving her a tiny smile. "I'm alright. You're not gonna lose me. Nothing on Earth can come between us, alright? Not Cal, not an iceberg, nothing. You jump-"

"I jump," she finished, and smiled. She knew he was right, but she also knew her fears about losing him wouldn't fully go away for a long, long time. "We should both probably go down to the infirmary, there should have some medicine to help." Rose hoisted Jack to his feet, his legs wobbling. Despite feeling very weak herself, Rose slung his arm over her shoulders to help support his weight.

"Thanks Rose," he muttered as she helped him down the stairs below decks. It felt so strange to be on a boat, in a way, with the gentle rocking of the waves. Rose could easily feel the ice cold water washing over her and she had to pause halfway down the stairs to catch her breath. Jack's brow furrowed, eyes shining with concern. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," was all Rose managed to say. "Just… memories, of the sinking." She didn't have to elaborate; she knew Jack understood. He had always understood her better than anyone she had ever known.

Jack nodded, and then they reached the infirmary. It was a large room, with beds spread out in all directions. A few people were lying in them, and Rose could see some Titanic survivors recovering. Survivors. She wondered how many had died. Hundreds of people had been in the water, but just how many, Rose wasn't sure. She bet at least half the people on the boat hadn't made it, but it still felt surreal to think about.

"How may I help you?" a nurse asked, a plump middle-aged woman, and the silver nametag pinned to her apron read _Debbie._

"We were on the Titanic, and my…" Rose trailed off. What exactly were she and Jack? They were far past courting, but they weren't engaged at all. All she knew was that they were going to start a life together, and he was the only man she ever wanted to be with. But they had never really discussed it, or if they were going to get married; Rose had just assumed, and Jack had never said anything against it, but never anything for it either…

"Husband," Jack supplied, and Rose's heart swelled, feeling a rush of affection for him. "We were in the water, well I was, for a while and figured we needed something to catch anything before it starts."

"Very smart sir," Debbie said, smiling.

"Call me Jack, please," he requested, and Debbie nodded. Rose thought back to the first conversation she and Jack had had, after he had saved her from committing suicide.

 _Mr. Dawson-_

 _Jack._

"And Rose will be needing something too," he squeezed her hand, and Rose smiled at him. _Husband._ She quite liked the sound of it. And Rose Dawson had a nice ring to it, didn't it?

She and Jack followed Debbie over to some of the beds with white sheets and metal frames, side by side. "These can be yours. I'll be back in a jiff with some medicine, and a change of clothes for the two of you." She bustled away, while Rose took a seat on her bed, and Jack sat beside her.

"So, husband?" Rose whispered, barely able to contain her smile. Jack ran a hand through his floppy hair.

"Well, yeah?" he said, sounding slightly nervous. "I mean, I'd like to be, I know everything's been happening so fast and we still have a lot to figure out but…"

"I want to marry you Jack," Rose told him, placing her hand over his. Jack looked at her wide-eyed, his face breaking into a grin.

"Really?"

"Really." She leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Besides, I've been thinking, we need to make sure mother and Cal can't find us, right? So if I give my name as Rose Dawson on the survivor's list, that problem with be solved."

"That'd mean cutting ties with everyone you knew," Jack said slowly. "Are you sure you want to?"

Rose kissed him softly; his lips still felt cold, but Rose felt a surge of warmth anyway, lacing her fingers through his before she pulled away. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. There's nothing back there for me. I don't care about money, or anything… except you. You're all that I want. I want you, always."

Jack tightened his grip around her, pulling her closer and kissing her hair. "So, since you're taking my name, you want to make it official?" he smiled. "You'll have to wait to get a ring, though."

Rose kissed his fingers. "I don't even need a ring. I have you."

"Ah yes," Jack beamed at her, "but I need some way of warning off men who might try to steal you away. You're quite gorgeous, you know." Rose blushed; it was the first time Jack had really called her beautiful. "And I suppose you're worried about all those women who'll come to flirt with me too," he puffed out his chest, drawing a giggle out of her.

"Not really," she teased, running her fingers through his hair. Jack pouted, and she giggled again. "Jack," she laughed, and then coughed. Her throat was still too sore. "I'm alright," she squeaked out, when he looked at her in concern. "I'm sure your throat hurts too, you did a lot more talking than I did."

"I could hear you singing though," Jack pointed out. "It was the only thing keeping me awake, near the end." Rose wrapped her arms around him in a hug, gently cupping his cheek with her hand.

There was a quiet cough and the lovers broke apart to see Debbie standing there with two cups of brown liquid. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything," the nurse apologized.

"Not at all," Rose assured her. Debbie handed over the cups of medicine. "Thank you Debbie." Rose wrinkled her nose as she took a sip; it tasted disgusting, like some very rich caviar liquefied, which she had always detested. Jack looked similarly displeased by the taste.

Debbie gave them sympathetic looks. "I know the stuff tastes nasty, but it'll do you some good in the long run. I've asked a doctor to come take a more serious look at both of you, you could have gotten hypothermia out in the water and the sooner you catch it the better. The doctor will be along later this afternoon, but for now you can do what you want. There's a dining hall up on deck, and until New York everything's free for the survivors, if you're in the mood for some food."

"I think some rest will be good for us," Rose said. Her body had been running on nothing but adrenaline since the Titanic had begun sinking, and the night prior she had stayed up into the wee hours of the morning at the third class party. She had never felt more exhausted, yet more awake, in her entire life.

Debbie nodded. "Probably for the best, Miss Rose. They're taking names up on deck for the survivor's list, should I add yours and your husband's?"

"Jack and Rose Dawson," Jack answered. "Thank you Debbie. And if you wouldn't mind showing us the list once it's complete, that would be very kind of you." Debbie gave them a quick smile before going up the stairs. "You know," Jack said once Debbie had left, "she kinda reminds me of Molly Brown."

"I can see what you mean," Rose agreed, stifling a yawn. "It's probably the accent."

She and Jack moved towards one of the nearby screens to change behind into the new clothes Debbie had brought. They were simple and white, made of low-quality fabric - probably the cheapest thing Rose had ever worn - but it was a relief to be out of their damp clothes. Rose hadn't even realized she was still wearing Cal's coat, and slipped it off and shimmied out of her gown, leaving them on a nearby chair to dry. Now that they were out of danger, and for now at least, being safely taken care of, her body was giving in to how tired she was. "I hope you don't mind moving to the next bed over?" Rose asked, once they had come back to their beds. "I can't bear the thought of moving another inch tonight."

"We could just share?" Jack offered. "I don't think Debbie would mind, and in her eyes, we're husband and wife and it wouldn't be too cramped… If you're comfortable with it, that is." Jack looked at her for consent.

Rose pulled the covers and slipped inside, patting the space beside her. "I've never woken up beside someone before," she confessed, as Jack joined her. "You?" she added hesitantly. Jack had told her he had never had any love affairs with any of the French girls from his drawings, but she still had to wonder about his past lovers. Deep down, she knew it didn't really matter, and all that mattered was that he was with her now, but you couldn't blame her for being curious.

Jack shook his head. "No. I've courted girls, in the past, but I was always traveling too much to have anything serious… You're my first and last Rose." She rested her head on his chest, feeling warm and safe, able to make out his heartbeat, pounding like a beating drum, strong and steady. It was a relief to hear it, like a lullaby from childhood, a much happier time.

Jack wrapped his arms around her, pulling the blanket over her more up to her shoulder. "I love you," she murmured.

He kissed her forehead. "I love you too."


	2. The Carpathia Part I

CHAPTER TWO

The Carparthia Part I

* * *

 _April 15, 1912_

* * *

"I was wondering if you'd end up like this," a voice said. Rose opened her eyes, her vision blurry, until Debbie's kind, round face swam into view. "The doctor's here Miss."

"Oh, um, thank you Debbie," Rose said, yawning. She nudged Jack gently, and his eyes opened slowly. "Wake up Jack." She tried not to think of the last time she had to wake him up, and how she had feared that he wouldn't.

"Doctor's here?" Jack mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Rose smiled and climbed out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor. She missed the warmth of the bed, and Jack lying next to her, but knew she'd be returning to it soon enough. Besides, their health came first.

Rose saw a thin, tall man standing behind Debbie. "Hello, I'm Rose," she stuck out her hand and the man shook it. "Rose Dawson." She liked the way Jack's surname rolled off her tongue, and she was sure it would soon become second nature. As far as she was concerned, Rose Dewitt Butaker had died on the Titanic; Rose Dawson, meanwhile, had survived.

The doctor pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "I'm Doctor Wright. How are you feeling today Rose?"

"I'm as well as I can be," Rose answered, as Jack joined her side and took her hand in his. "This is my husband, Jack." It felt so nice to say it, Rose could only imagine how wonderful it would be to say it once it was true.

"Nice to meet you," Jack greeted, and he and the doctor shook hands.

"I'm here to do a diagnosis, so I'm going to list symptoms, and if you've experienced any of them, please let me know. Has there been any shivering, or fevers? Coughing, or shortness of breath, usually going up or down stairs? Clumsiness?" Doctor Wright said.

"Jack was shivering earlier today," Rose said. "And he needed some help getting down the stairs. I was a little short of breath myself, and I have a bit of a cough." She looked to Jack for confirmation of the symptoms. "I'm not sure if either of us have fevers."

"It seems like you have pneumonia, Mrs. Dawson. As for Mr. Dawson, he seems to have a case of hypothermia. Both can be treated, and I can prescribe some medicine. A relief fund is being collected to help the survivors in the aftermath of the sinking, so you won't have to worry about the money, for now at least," Doctor Wright explained. "We can also check for fevers, if you'd try this thermometer."

Rose was reminded of childhood visits to the family physician, as she stuck the thermometer under her tongue. It was uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable after one visit to the doctor, upon which her mother had decided she was getting too chubby, and that it was time for Rose to start wearing corsets. God almighty those things were awfully tight. Rose was glad to be free of them at last.

"You can take the thermometers out now," Doctor Wright instructed, and Rose did as he said, and handed hers over to the doctor. Doctor Wright examined them. "It seems like you, Mrs. Dawson, have a slight fever, but with proper medication and bed rest you should make a quick recovery. As for you, Mr. Dawson, your case is more extreme I'm afraid. Your illness will take longer to wait out, however, but you should make a full recovery. I have to ask, were you in the water for very long?"

"We went down with the ship," Jack said tiredly. "And ended up in the water, and we looked for a piece of wood, or something to float on. We found some sort of door. I helped Rose onto it, and then tried to get on myself... but my weight was too much, so I stayed in the water..." His voice shook slightly and Rose gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

She felt tears prick at her eyes. "Two hours, I guess. Maybe three?"

Doctor Wright studied them for a moment. "It's miraculous you both survived," he said, giving them a sad smile.

Rose hurriedly wiped her eyes, glancing at Jack and he tightened his grip on her hand. "I know."

* * *

Doctor Wright prescribed some medication, and Debbie brought them some dinner. "Some toast will be easy on the stomach," the nurse said, handing over the meal. Rose knew she should be starving, but she couldn't even finish more than one piece of toast. After dinner, Rose crawled back into bed.

"Even though we're ill, can we still share a bed?" Rose asked Debbie. The nurse would know best, but Rose didn't want Jack to get any sicker, even if she would miss lying beside him.

"In sickness and in health," Debbie reminded her, smiling. "You two should be fine. Good night Rose, Jack." She gave them a small wave before turning off the lights and heading up the stairs.

Rose snuggled into her pillow, pulling the sheets high over herself as Jack climbed into bed beside her. Rose laced her fingers through his, caressing his hands. Jack kissed her forehead. "We'll be here for another day or two," Jack said, looking at her tenderly. "But then, what do you want to do?"

"Travel... but we need money to do that, don't we?" Rose said softly. Now that the idea of her new life, of her dream of being poor but free was being realized, Rose also knew she had to be practical.

"A little bit, yes. Fabrizio..." he trailed off, his eyes growing sad at the thought of his friend whom he had probably lost. Jack swallowed hard and then plowed on. "And I, we used to travel everywhere, but there were a lot of nights we went hungry, or weren't in the safest of areas. I don't want you to have to go through that."

Rose gave him a soft kiss. "Thank you Jack. To be honest though, I can't wait to start working."

Jack thought that she couldn't help but say that now, when she had never worked a day in her life, but thought back to a conversation aboard the Titanic. _And I'm sick of people telling me what dreams I should and should not have,_ Rose had said angrily, when Jack had said she wouldn't last two days as a member of the lowest class. He didn't want to upset her, and Rose had proven just how tough she was when it came to saving him with that ax below decks.

"So, what job do you want to do?" he said instead. If they were going to be together, he would have to give her the benefit of the doubt, and support her, especially when she struggled. There would definitely be some sort of adjustment period; a person simply wasn't used to going from riches to rags in a day or two, after all.

Rose beamed at him. "Realistically, a seamstress, I've always liked sewing. Or something to do with art. I'm a good actress, of course." Rose's smile faded. "Mother never knew the extent of how... how I was suffering."

"I'm sorry Rose," Jack pulled her closer to him.

"It's not your fault," she said softly.

Jack kissed her forehead. "What was your father like?"

Rose smiled ruefully. "He was a good man, a kind one. Mr. Andrews reminded me of him, a bit. He saw the fire I had in me, and he didn't try to stomp it out like mother. But he died when I was fifteen, and he made some bad investment deals. There wasn't a lot of money left in the will. Mother refused to stop living her lavish lifestyle, and then it all ran out. We could have gotten by, if she had been more frugal. But that's why she forced me to be with Cal, for the money. I never wanted to marry him."

"I'm so sorry Rose. My parents, we were poor, but they always supported me. My mother especially, she always encouraged me about my art." Jack tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear, giving her a small smile.

"How did they die, Jack?" Rose asked softly.

"My mother was never in good health. She passed away when I was fifteen, and it seemed like my dad died of a broken heart. He passed away shortly afterwards. Then I left Chippewa Falls behind. It's a tiny town, not much opportunity, especially for an artist. Besides, the house was too full of memories. I wouldn't mind going back someday, though."

"Is it a good place to raise a family?" Rose said, her voice slightly hesitant.

Jack looked at in surprise, and then smiled widely at her. "Yeah, it is." He leaned in and captured her lips with his, and she responded with equal enthusiasm, deepening the kiss. When Jack pulled away, his eyes were full of love for her. "I love you Rose," he said breathlessly. He knew as long as he lived, he would never get tired of saying those words. "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you, Jack," Rose replied, giving him another kiss. "I love you more than anything," she murmured against his lips. He was the one person in the entire world who understood her, believed in her, and truly, deeply loved her. He had saved her, she realized, in every way that a person could be saved: in mind, in body, in soul. Rose reluctantly pulled away, feeling short of breath and her heart short of bursting at the seams with love. "Thank you Jack."

"For what?" Jack cupped her face, bringing their foreheads together. All Rose could see were his eyes; they were all she wanted to see, and she saw herself in their reflection, all the good pieces of herself, so, so loved by the man holding her heart in his hands.

"For everything," she whispered, kissing him again. It was a briefer one, less passionate and sweeter. "We should probably get to bed," she said once she had pulled away. She settled under the sheets, resting her head on the pillow, letting out a soft giggle when Jack pulled her closer to him, and she laid there happily cocooned in his side.

"G'night Rose," Jack murmured into her hair.

"Good night Jack," she smiled.

* * *

 _April 16, 1912_

* * *

Sunlight hit her face, which Rose thought was odd, seeing as how the blinds her room should have blocked it out, or her mother would have come to wake her up. Then Rose remembered where she was, warm and wrapped up in blankets and Jack's strong arms, and smiled to herself, rolling over so she could face him. Jack was still sleeping soundly, a few strands of his hair falling over his face. Gently, Rose brushed them back, looking at him fondly, feeling a rush of love for him.

If every morning waking up next to him would feel like this, she could gladly get used to it. The sunlight shifted and Jack's beautiful blue eyes fluttered open. He smiled sleepily at her. "Morning," he yawned. Rose combed her hands through his hair.

"Good morning," she kissed him quickly. Jack's arms were draped over her waist, his hands linked at the small of her back. It made her feel so protected and safe, like for once she had a chance to breathe. So much had happened in the past few days since she had boarded the Titanic; it felt nice to know that for now, things were slowing down.

"So what are our plans for today? I know I wouldn't mind some fresh air," he suggested, "and I doubt your mother or Cal will come down to the Steerage level."

"Some fresh air sounds nice," Rose agreed, yet disentangled herself from him and the bed sheets with difficulty. She had to keep reminding herself that now, they had all the time in the world to be together. They didn't have to worry about her mother, or Cal, or even Cal's valet, Lovejoy, bursting their bubble of happiness. Rose could remember walking back to First Class after the steerage party, and seeing a shooting star.

 _Aren't we supposed to wish on it?_ Rose had asked Jack. _Why, what would you wish for?_ Rose's eyes had flickered down to his lips and then back up to his eyes, knowing that in two days' time when the ship would dock at New York, whatever had started between her and Jack would be finished. _Something I can't have,_ she had answered.

Only now she could. Jack was hers; her life was hers. It was beautiful and exciting and terrifying, all at once.

She pulled on her shoes, which were still damp from the morning prior, and once Jack was ready, she grabbed his hand and they walked up the stairs together. She felt wide awake, yet knew the burst of energy was only temporary, and that Jack would need to go back to bed fairly soon. For now though, she was determined to enjoy herself.

Once they had reached the deck, Rose coughed a bit into her arm, but then smiled and looked around. It was a beautiful April day with blue skies, the breeze rolling off the water cold yet refreshing. She leaned out over the rail, and could make out the faint skyline of New York City. "Look at that Jack," she pointed, grinning at him as he saw the skyline. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Almost as beautiful as you," Jack replied. Rose blushed, resting her head on his shoulder. "It makes me want to draw something."

"Oh that's right, your sketchbook..." Rose said sadly. It had gone down with the ship. "Well, that's one of the first things we'll have to buy. Speaking of money, I was thinking, do you think we'd be able to sell my dress?" The flowing blue and pink dress would surely get a nice sum, but she wasn't sure if the water had ruined it or not. Their old clothes weren't fully dry yet, but Rose was sure they would be soon enough.

"It might be too messed up," Jack said thoughtfully. "But we'll figure something out." He glanced around, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "Hey Rose, wanna go to the stern of the ship with me?"

"For old time's sake?" Rose guessed.

She laughed as Jack led her along to the back of the ship, and they walked slowly, hand-in-hand, just enjoying the weather. It took them at least 20 minutes for them to reach the stern and she stepped onto the railing easily, Jack's hands resting on each side of her waist. It wasn't quite the same feeling as on the Titanic - her heart wasn't pounding fiercely in her chest, nor was she realizing that she'd had fallen head over heels for Jack, or that she wasn't going back to her mother and Cal - but the same element of freedom was there, and the wind that was blowing back her hair was there.

And Jack. Jack would always be there.

She turned her head to the side so he could kiss her, but was surprised at how warm his lips were. A fever, or was he finally warming up? Was the cold finally leaving them both? Jack had said he loved her fire (had that really only been less than two days ago? It felt like a lifetime) and now, was it finally burning, ignited by the spark he had given her?

"I'm flying Jack," she whispered, her voice soft but confident. And with him by her side, she knew she would never have to come down.

Jack beamed at her, and then tried to stifle a yawn; Rose caught it anyway. "Still a little tired," he confessed. Slowly, he stepped down off the railing, holding one of Rose's hands aloft as she did the same. "I'm fine to keep walking, just maybe not fine enough to keep flying."

"Fine enough to talk?" Rose wondered, as they headed back towards the main part of the deck. "After all, there's still so much we have to learn about each other. I want to know every single thing there is to know about you Jack."

Jack took a seat next to the railing, Rose settling into his arms, sitting in between his legs as he wrapped his arms around her waist. The deck was fairly empty, except for a few officials and survivors from the lifeboats. It was hardly an appropriate position in public, but Rose couldn't have cared less. "Where do you want to start?" Jack asked her.

"Hmm. First memory?"

"My mom was showing me a flower, she loved to do gardening... The flower was a rose." Jack kissed the top of her head, and Rose felt a great swelling of affection for him. "What's your first memory?"

"I was throwing a tantrum because I wanted to wear a lavender dress and mother didn't want me to," Rose explained.

"You had that fire in you from the start," Jack said admiringly.

"Okay, favourite colour?"

"It used to be blue," Jack tucked a curl of Rose's fiery hair behind her ear, "but now I think it's red. Yours?"

"Lavender, I think," Rose answered. "First thing you ever drew?"

"That's hard, I'll have to think. It was probably a family portrait, of my parents and I. Incomplete one, of course, 'cause you weren't in it." Jack smiled sadly. "They would have loved you Rose. My father would have thought you were way out of my league, which you are, and my mother would have been so proud of me for having such a lovely lady fall for me."

"Your parents sound wonderful, Jack..." Rose grew slightly hesitant, but continued on anyways. "I'd love to visit their graves with you. Chippewa Falls could be our first place we travel to."

"Then the pier in Santa Monica?" Jack said, nodding, and Rose knew he had taken her idea to heart.

"And you can teach me how to ride like a man," Rose said, chuckling. Jack laughed. "And chew tobacco like a man, and spit like a man - oh, that reminds me! Jack, you'll love this." She had to control her giggling to get the words out. "When I left mother and Cal at the lifeboats, to save you, Cal tried to stop me and he grabbed my arm." Jack frowned; he hated knowing that Cal had hurt her, emotionally at the very least, and he wouldn't put it past Cal to hit Rose either. And it sounded like Rose had given up a place on a lifeboat, _twice,_ for him. "So I hawked it all up and spit it _right in his face_!"

Jack had to laugh at that. "I imagine his face was priceless."

"Amazing," Rose confirmed, her giggles dying down. "Alright, let's keep going. Best memory?" As Jack opened his mouth, Rose cut him off, "Besides meeting me."

Jack laughed again. "You know me so well Rose." She smiled. Rose did feel like she knew him better now, or least she knew more details. She knew his heart, his soul, how kind and brave and loving he was. _How did you find out I didn't do it?_ He had asked of his framed theft. _I didn't. I just realized I already knew._ She knew him, the important parts. Everything else was a little detail, but she'd love it all just the same.

"Well, now I actually have to think," Jack paused. "It was probably the first time I ever sold one of my drawings. To realize that someone actually wanted something I created was a great feeling. Other than that, it'd have to be when you said you'd changed your mind, and that you wanted to be with me too."

"You're too sweet," Rose smiled, kissing him on the cheek. Jack seemed surprised at the new contact, as she had never done it before, but very pleased at the same time. Rose giggled at his mixed expression. "Mine would have to be... my father teaching me how to dance as a little girl. Or maybe dancing at the Steerage party with you."

"D'you think you'll be a dancer?" Jack said. "I know you said you'd like to be an artist, or a sculptor, or a moving picture actress."

"It's going to be so hard to choose," Rose said, grinning. It felt so freeing to know after years of those dreams being only fantasies, she could make them into a reality.

"Why not all of them?" Jack suggested.

"Something I'll definitely consider," Rose said, but it was clear she wasn't making up her mind just yet. She yawned, suddenly feeling quite tired. They had been out almost the whole morning. "We should probably go back to bed, get some rest." She climbed out of his arms, and turned around to see him still sitting there.

"Help me up?" Jack asked, his expression pained. "My legs are feeling a little weak."

Rose took his hands and pulled him to his feet. "I think some rest will be good for you," she said worriedly. She helped him to the stairs, and then into bed. She kissed his forehead - he was burning up, which did nothing to ease her worries - and pulled the covers up to his chin. "I'm going to go get Debbie, alright? I'll be right back."

"I'll just wait here," Jack muttered, and Rose laughed shakily. "What, too soon?"

"Always too soon," she scolded him, and then went to get Debbie. She found the nurse in one of the side rooms, restocking medicine. Debbie was kind enough to recommend some medicine on top of the medication she and Jack were already taking, giving Rose a small blue bottle.

"Give him two pills of this with some water," Debbie had explained. "And then again at night. That should get the fever to die down."

Rose grabbed a glass of water before heading back to Jack's bedside. He seemed to be almost asleep, but he gave her a sleepy smile. "Take this," she handed him two pills and the glass of water. Jack frowned - he must have hated the way pills tasted, Rose knew she did - but did as she said anyway. "Feel any better?" she said hopefully.

"It'll take a little longer for it to set in," Jack said. Rose rolled her eyes.

"I know that, just..." she brushed his hair off his hot forehead, resting her hand on it. Her palm was cool against his burning skin. "I just want you to get better soon. I hate the fact you're suffering like this because of me... we could have taken turns, on the door, but-"

" _Rose_." Jack sat up straight, enveloping her hands in his own, forcing her to look him in the eye. "I _love_ you. From the sound of it, you gave up your safety and put your life on the line twice for me. It's only fair for me to do it at least once. I knew the risk I was taking, I - I knew my chances of making it were slim. And even if I knew I would die with absolute certainty, I'd do it all over again. _I love you._ You jump, I jump, right?"

"Right," Rose said, crying freely. What she had done to have such a wonderful man love her so deeply, she'd never know, but she would be eternally grateful for it.

"Good," Jack said, the fight going out of him. "Now," he yawned. "I know I'm going to fall asleep soon, but stay with me?" Rose gripped his hand tightly, her eyes softening as Jack already started to doze off.

"Always. I'll never let go," she promised, her voice radiating warmth and affection. Jack smiled sleepily at her, and was soon sleeping soundly, and Rose knew, somehow, that he'd be just fine. They both would. They had each other, after all.


	3. The Carpathia Part II

CHAPTER THREE

The Carparthia Part II

* * *

 _April 16, 1912_

* * *

Rose felt a gentle squeeze on her hand and smiled as Jack opened his eyes. "Feeling better now?" she asked, sure that in the few hours Jack had slept, the medicine had worked its magic.

"Actually, yes," Jack propped himself up on his elbows, leaning up to give her a quick kiss. "Thank you for staying with me."

"It was nice to see you be so peaceful for once," Rose confessed. "Now, I don't know about you, but I actually feel really hungry. Debbie came by and said lunch should be served soon, if we go now we should be able to catch it."

"That sounds like a good idea," Jack said, pulling back the sheets and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, slipping on his shoes. "Is there anything you're in the mood for? What about something you've never tried?"

"I've never had a hamburger," Rose admitted. "Mother always deemed them too messy, not ladylike enough." She thought of herself giving Lovejoy the finger and smiled.

Jack mock-gasped, putting his hand over his heart as they walked towards the dining part of the ship. "That's horrible. A good old American hamburger is one of the most delicious things in the world. Much better than caviar, I can guarantee it. And you have to eat it with your hands, no cutlery. And with ketchup."

"I trust you to make the perfect hamburger for me," Rose told him, smiling.

Jack held open the door of the dining hall. "After you, m'lady."

"What a gentlemen," Rose played along, giggling when Jack did a ridiculous bow.

"So," Jack said once they had entered the tall, "would you like a table by the window?"

The hall was full of tables, far less luxurious than the First Class dining hall, made up little small tables with spindly chairs. It reminded Rose of a café, maybe like the ones Jack had described to her, in Paris.

She had been to Paris once with mother for a few days, but they hadn't gone anywhere interesting, only to dull social functions. It was there that she had met Cal, her life taking a drastic turn for the worse. She would love to go back to Paris, but this time with the man she truly loved, seeing everything she hadn't gotten a chance to see.

"Rose? Anyone home?"

"Oh, sorry," she gave Jack an apologetic smile. "I zoned out for a moment." Normally no one had ever bothered to pull her out of it; in mother and Cal's mind, a quiet, mindless Rose was a well-behaved one. "What was the question?"

"Table by the window?" Jack asked again.

"Window. Mother always hated them," Rose answered. Jack happily led her over to the table, and went to move her chair out for her when Rose stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'd like to do it myself."

Jack took a step back as she sat in the chair all by herself. It had been months she'd been able to, maybe years. Rose even let herself slouch, ready to kick years of painfully perfect posture to the curb.

"May I take your order?" the waiter said, stopping by their table.

"A hamburger," Rose said excitedly. How long had it been since she had been allowed to order for herself? Or been asked for her opinion? She felt a rush of affection for Jack.

"What she's having," Jack told the waiter, smiling. "As for drinks, a glass of water for me." He looked to Rose, who nodded her consent. "And for the lady." The waiter took their menus and left.

"It's probably best to take it easy on our stomachs," Rose said wisely. She glanced outside at the sea and the sun was warm on her face. "I'd like to check when we're arriving in New York with the captain after lunch, if that's alright with you."

"Perfectly fine," Jack said happily. She stretched across the table and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. "Do you want to pick up where we left off yesterday? I think we got to our best memories, but that was it."

"You can start," Rose offered.

"Oh, this is a good one. Most embarrassing moment," Jack said triumphantly. Rose didn't even have to think for a moment.

"One day in finishing school, my 'friend,'" she made quotation marks with her fingers, rolling her eyes, "Olivia Jensen tripped me in the hallway and I fell flat on my face. Everyone laughed." Rose chuckled slightly. "I suppose I must have looked fairly strange. But I can't wait to hear yours."

"But no teasing, alright?" Jack bargained.

Rose arched an eyebrow. "I shall make no such promises, Mr. Big Artiste."

Jack chuckled. "Fair enough, alright here goes… During the summer - I was ten, I think? – I went down to Lake Wissota with some friends and we went swimming. We thought it'd be fun to do some jumps, so I got a running start and jumped. Only my swim trunks tore, and I hit the water face on, so then I was just there in the water, in pain, and," he lowered his voice, "naked."

Rose could barely contain her laughter, throwing back her head. "I don't see why you're so embarrassed to tell me," she teased. She leaned forwards, and whispered in his ear, "I've seen it all anyways."

Jack flushed. "Well, er-" he said, flustered. Rose laughed again, and eventually Jack smiled at her.

Their love-making had been quick, clumsy and sweaty in the back of the car. Rose liked that now, they'd be able to take all the time in the world. She wanted to know every inch of his skin, of his love.

They both quieted down once the waiter came back; the food smelled unbelievably good, of steaming meat and bread. "Thank you sir," she smiled as he placed the plate in front of her. She wasted no time in picking up the burger, pausing only for Jack to squirt some ketchup on it, and sharing an excited look with him, bit into it.

Meat and bread and juice exploded over her taste buds, tasting better than she had thought possible. She chewed it, and then realized she didn't even have to keep her mouth closed if she didn't want to. She munched loudly, beaming at Jack as best she could with a mouth full of food.

Jack chuckled, poking her nose with a finger. "You might want to slow down," he advised her, as she took another huge bite, "you don't want to upset your stomach."

Reluctantly, Rose took a bit more time finishing her meal, but was still done long before Jack. She licked the ketchup and grease off her fingers, feeling wonderfully unladylike. Her mother would have a heart attack if she could see her now, Rose thought proudly.

"You were right, Jack," Rose grinned. "That was _much_ better than nasty old caviar."

Jack wiped his hands with a napkin, having finished his meal. "I always keep my promises." He handed her a napkin to clean up. Rose wiped her hands and then pushed up from the table. She was grateful the Carparthia was being so hospitable, as neither of them had any money. She knew it would be hard to find their way in New York, starting out with absolutely nothing, but she also knew they'd make it, somehow.

Jack had been extremely poor this past five years, for starters, and he knew how to get by. Rose felt confident in his resourcefulness, and in her own. Grabbing an ax wasn't something everyone would think of, after all.

It was easy to find the captain at the cockpit of the ship. An elderly man, but his beard wasn't nearly as white as the captain of Titanic, he happily answered their question. "We should be arriving in New York sometime early morning of the 18th."

"Thank you captain," Rose said gratefully, before she and Jack headed back out to the Steerage deck. She felt nervous, having to pass the First Class deck. She knew it was unlikely, but she worried about Cal or her mother catching a glimpse of her. Until she was off the boat and as far away from them as possible, Rose knew she'd be worried about them finding her, and stealing away her wonderful new life with Jack.

Despite standing in the wake of a tragedy, and the shivering fits that had come over her every once in a while (a symptom of the pneumonia), Rose had never been happier.

She let out a small sigh of relief once she and Jack were back on the Steerage side of the ship, grabbing Jack's hand and turning him towards her for a kiss. Jack's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, one of her hands resting on the base of his neck, rumpling the edges of his hair. She smiled into it, pulling away only when she felt a cough coming on.

"You want to go back to bed?" Jack said, eyes shining with concern.

"Just for a little bit of rest, but I don't really want to go to sleep," Rose explained.

"We could talk instead," Jack suggested. "There's still lots of questions to ask."

"I have one," Rose said, as they headed back towards the infirmary. "Like, for example, what is your favourite food? Mine would have to be hamburgers now."

"Favourite food?" Jack had to stop and think. "My mother used to make this apple pie that was just delicious, old family recipe. She was a great cook." Rose smiled, her eyes growing sad. Jack's brow furrowed. "Something wrong Rose?"

"I just… I don't know how to cook," Rose's cheeks burned. "I always wanted to learn, but mother would never let me." She stared at her shoes. She was going to be Jack's wife, and a wife had to know how to do at least a bit of cooking and cleaning, didn't she? She wouldn't even be able to make Jack's favourite food, having zero experience baking at all. She'd be completely useless in the kitchen.

"Hey, Rose," Jack gently lifted her face. "It's okay you don't know how to cook. Fabrizio and I got used to making meals, I can teach you some stuff, and we'll learn the rest together, okay?"

Rose leaned into his touch, a small smile spreading across her face. "Okay."

"Miss Rose, Mr. Daw- Jack!" They turned to see Debbie hurrying towards them. "I got the survivor's list, liked you asked for."

"Thank you Debbie," Rose said, giving the nurse a grin. She couldn't help it, when Debbie reminded her so much of the cheerful and brash Molly Brown. She took the papers and the nurse spared them a smile before tending to another patient, a passenger on the Carparthia who had come down with a cold.

"I'm not sure of their last names," Rose said, passing the list over to Jack. They sat down on their bed together, Jack's eyes scanning the heartbreakingly short list of names. Hardly any of the third class had survived, it seemed.

She watched as tears pooled at the corners of Jack's eyes. "I figured as much," he said, his voice shaking. "But…" He furiously wiped at his eyes. Rose wrapped her arms around him and he buried his face in her neck, his shoulders shaking. She could imagine how painful it was to lose a best friend, similar to the type of pain she had gone through, however brief, when she had thought she had lost Jack.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Let it all out." Jack clung to her like a newborn child, his breathing labored from tears, but none seemed to really fall. She rubbed soothing circles into his back. _Promise me that you'll survive, no matter… how hopeless._ "It's going to be okay, Jack," she promised, and he finally pulled away, looking up at her with bloodshot eyes, and she could tell, that somehow, he believed her.

"Okay," he said thickly, managing the tiniest of smiles.

Rose brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. "Okay."

* * *

 _April 18, 1912_

* * *

The day before docking at New York passed in a blissful haze. She and Jack continued their game of asking each other questions, upon which they learned that Rose had a fondness for Shakespeare, specifically _Romeo and Juliet,_ ("Gee, I wonder why," Jack had teased before Rose had pulled him into a kiss) and that Jack's favourite place he had been to had by far been the pier in Santa Monica. They ate at the diner and got plenty of rest, as their exertion of the previous day had worn them out significantly, and who knew when they would get the chance to relax like this? The sooner their sickness went away, the better.

That night, Rose fell asleep easily. And then, suddenly, the icy water was licking her insides, her ears ringing with the screams of hundreds, the creaking of the boat, oh God the screaming, but Jack, where was Jack…? The water was so dark and so cold, she couldn't find him anywhere, where was he-?

She woke up in cold sweat, her chest heaving. Her cheeks were wet, and Rose suppressed a sob.

"Rose?" Jack said groggily. "Rose, something wrong?"

"It's nothing," she said quietly. "Go back to bed." Her shaking voice betrayed her.

"It's not nothing," Jack said stubbornly, sitting up and gathering her in his arms. "Nightmare?" he guessed, resting his head on her shoulder.

Rose nodded vaguely. "I was back in the water." A shudder ran through her. "I couldn't find you, oh God Jack I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I'm not going anywhere," Jack kissed her hair. "I'm with you, always. I'll never, _never_ let go. Always, Rose."

Her crying turned to hiccupping eventually, and they laid back down, Rose falling asleep wrapped in Jack's arms, her fingers laced tightly through his. Jack watched her sleep soundly for a few moments, smiling in the fact that it was because of him, and kissed her forehead gently before drifting back off to sleep himself.

* * *

Rose was still tired when she woke up early that morning, pulling on her slippers. The captain had said they'd be arriving at New York fairly early, and she and Jack still had some things to sort out. Besides, she wanted to be on the lookout for the Statue of Liberty. She considered waking Jack up, but figured he'd want to see it just as much as her, especially over sleep.

 _To make each day count._

Gently, Rose shook him awake. "Want to watch the sunrise?" she whispered excitedly. The few others in the infirmary were still sleeping.

Jack grinned sleepily at her. "'Course. Lemme grab our blankets, it'll be cold up on deck." Jack stripped the blankets from the bed and followed her up the stairs.

Rose shivered as the cold air hit her, her breath misted over in a puff of white. Jack draped the blankets over their shoulders as they leaned over the rail. The sun was a red dot over the dark water, just poking over the waves.

"Which do you prefer, sunrises or sunsets?" Rose asked, glancing over at Jack. Jack took a moment to ponder her question.

"I think," he said slowly. "Sunrises. Not that I don't love sunsets, for obvious reasons," he waggled his eyebrows at her, and Rose smiled, heat rushing to her cheeks. "But sunrises are more hopeful. They're a new beginning, you know."

"I do." She leaned her head on Jack's shoulder, and he slung an arm around her waist, tugging her closer. "Everything's going to change, isn't it?"

"For the better," Jack added. "It's not going to be easy, but… it'll be better than the life you had, trust me."

 _Do you trust me? I trust you… Rose, I trust you… We're gonna make it Rose, trust me. I trust you…_

Rose kissed him briefly. "All the time."

Jack pulled her into a long, warm hug. Rose smiled, closing her eyes, burying her face in his neck and breathing him in. Their future, their financials especially, were so uncertain, but she couldn't help but believe that somehow, everything would turn out alright, as long as she had him, and Rose knew she always would: nothing on Earth could come between them. Not a jealous Cal, not their differing social classes, not even the sinking of the Titanic.

They sat together in a peaceful silence, loosely holding each other's hands while they watched the sun climb higher into the sky, as the Statue of Liberty came more and more into focus. The statue was large and somber, and as the boat drew closer to shore clouds gathered, looking gray. A few people had gathered on the deck as the morning wore on, but most were inside.

"It looks like rain," Jack noted, glancing up the sky. "We should get inside, we don't want to get sicker."

They followed each other inside, and then went back down to the infirmary. They gathered what few items they had – their old clothes, and Cal's old coat, which had finally dried out, and Rose's dress didn't seem to be too badly damaged either – before heading back up to the deck.

Luckily, some of the crew were handing out more woolly blankets. Rose gratefully wrapped one around herself. The cold, now that it was growing more intense with the wind, made it too easy to slip back into the nightmare she had barely survived less than three days prior. She tugged it around her head, and found warmth when Jack wrapped his arms around her as well.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Jack hummed in response, quickly settling into the familiar tune of _Come Josephine._ It brought a smile to her lips, and Rose joined him, quietly singing the words. "Come Josephine, in my flying machine, oh and it's up she goes, up she goes…"

The passengers erupted into cheering once they could see the docks of New York City's harbour.

"We're finally here," Rose said in disbelief.

"Home," Jack said faintly.

"Our home," Rose added, and Jack brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it, pulling a giggle out of her. Had it really been only a week ago that the Titanic had set sail, that she had seen it as a slave ship? Her life had been changed so drastically. _Jack_ had changed her life so drastically. She kissed him, trying to pour all her love for him into the kiss, for the way he had given her hope, freed her, how he had saved her.

Jack pulled away first, slightly breathless. He rested his forehead against hers, grinning at her, his eyes alight with joy, before they turned to watch the ship shudder to a stop at the docks.

Rose shifted the clothes in her arms, pulling her blanket tighter around herself with one hand, before sliding her fingers through Jack's once more.

They stepped off the boat together with the rest of the passengers, Rose tightly gripping Jack's hand, a certain weight sliding off her shoulders. _When the ship docks, I'm getting off with you._ Her vow had finally been fulfilled.

Jack glanced at her, beaming. "Our home," he agreed, never looking away from her as he kissed her for the first time on dry land, and Rose felt her heart swell as she thought of all they could be, the Statue of Liberty, of freedom, staring down at them.

The world was theirs. Their love had survived. And now, they could live.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't know if I'll continue this story beyond this point, so I'm marking it was complete - however, one day I may decide to write more, I'm just not sure for now.**

 **Thank you for your favourites/follows/reviews and reads. I really appreciate it. :)**


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